


Blood

by castaliareed



Series: Bound and Betrayed [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A lot more plot then planned for this piece of porn, Angry Sex, Biting, Dark Jon Snow, Doggy Style, F/M, Incest, Jonsa Kink Week, JonxSansa - Freeform, Kinky, Rough Sex, Sansa likes very rough sex, Sex, Sibling Incest, Siblings, Sinblings (I accidently typed this and wow it fits), Wolf Style, jonsa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 10:57:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13545906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castaliareed/pseuds/castaliareed
Summary: "Sansa always felt him when he was near. The coldness up her spine, his rage in her belly. Her breath would go short and she would know he was close. So, Jon was back from Duskendale. Without looking at him she knew he was in a foul mood. Turning to see his silent form standing in the doorway watching them, Sansa gave him her warmest smile. The one she reserved for him. The one that healed him."The Great War has ended. The Stark siblings, Jon and Sansa forged a tentative truce between the Northern Kingdom of the North, Riverlands, and the Vale, and the Southern Kingdom ruled by Daenerys Targaryen. It is a truce built on alliances neither wants. They struggle to keep the peace between Kingdoms and between themselves.





	Blood

**Author's Note:**

> This was created for Day 1 of Jonsa Kink Week. Dark Jon. I feel my Jon usually oscillates on the edge of darkness. So well, this is just more of that. 
> 
> I was going to add more kinky times and then this got to 3000 words. So well, we have all week for kink. This also got way more plot than I originally planned. It is a concept I've wanted to play with for awhile, so I decided to go for it. And please note, Jon and Sansa are brother and sister here. As always thank you for reading and let me know what you think!  
> See more notes at the end.

_"You will stay for the banquet," the silver-haired queen Daenerys said. It was not a question, a command. A command Jon did not want to hear._

_"My men are ready to make way for Harrenhal this afternoon," he said sitting across the table from her, avoiding her violet eyes. The meeting in Duskendale was only to take a day. To put seals to what was already been agreed upon. I promised them I would be back to that hell hole, Harrenhal, in a days time, he thought. Promised them, we would go back to Riverrun. Go back North._

_"That will not do," she said a false smile spread across her lips. "It's in honor of our visit. Only a small feast to celebrate the new trade agreement. You can leave first thing in the morning." Jon continued to frown._ _He may be Daenerys' consort in the south. But he was still a King in the North, the Riverlands, and the Vale. A king did not have to stay._

 _"Dear husband, in near 4 years we've been together for barely a moon's turn except on the battlefield," she said playing with the pale pink diaphanous fabric of her gown. "What might t_ _he people think?_ _I do hate how you Westerosis talk and talk about everyone." If you hate it so much why do you insist on being Queen, he thought._

_Trying not to watch her, Jon was conscious of how much clothing he was wearing, heavy riding leathers and a light wool summer cloak. And how little Daenerys was using to cover her tiny frame. It was still mid-spring. He thought she must be cold. And her dead dragons wouldn't be keeping her warm, either._

_"Fine," he said standing up to leave the room. Catching her smile, Jon would not let her win completely. "I'll need to send a raven saying I'm delayed."_

_"Of course, we wouldn't want to worry your sweet sister," Daenerys said all falseness. "It's a shame the Lady of Winterfell did not join you. I heard she does love feasts." Jon ignored the bait. Daenerys stood and walked around the table toward him._

_"She was worried about the spring sickness going around," he lied. "She doesn't want the girls to become ill."_

_"Oh yes, her daughters," Daenerys said putting her arm through his, patting Jon's scarred hand. "We do still have so much to discuss."_

_*******_

**Sansa**

Sansa spent the morning with her daughters in chambers that had been made into a nursery. They were the brightest least dreary rooms to be found in the entirety of Harrenhal. If they had to come to this gods-forsaken haunt of a castle with its towers melted from dragon-fire two centuries past, Sansa might at the very least give her daughters some brightness. It belonged to her now just as Winterfell did.  _Two castles touched by dragon fire_.  _It must be a curse._ The entire land had been touched by dragon-fire and war.  _The whole of Westeros was cursed._  Sansa looked at the girls, trying to remind herself it was spring now and they were Starks. They were direwolves, protecting and re-building. Dragons couldn't hurt them anymore.   

Serena and Robbyn-Rianna did not seem the notice the difference between castles. True her eldest, Serena, had cried until her bright blue eyes had no more tears to give on the first nights of their journey south to observe the rebuilding of their lands. By the time they reached Sansa's mother's childhood home, Riverrun, her little she-wolves were accustomed to being away from Winterfell. 

Next, to a round table near the center of the room, mother and daughters played with blocks on the floor. Robbyn giggling every time Sansa and Serena would build a tower for her to knock down. Three and two, they will hardly remember this by the time we return North, she had assured Jon. Riverrun, Harrenhal, Winterfell, all the same to them. Old castles, two of them near ruins. It's the family they will remember. Riding in the front of Jon on his stallion, playing with Sansa in the mornings, or visiting their Tully cousins at Riverrun. 

Maybe it was the draft entering the room. She felt his presence before she saw Jon. Brienne, her sworn sword, stood watch at the door and did not need to announce him. Sansa always felt him when he was near. The coldness up her spine, his rage in her belly. Her breath would go short and she would know he was close.  _So, Jon was back from Duskendale._  Without looking at him she knew he was in a foul mood. Turning to see his silent form standing in the doorway watching them, Sansa gave him her warmest smile. The one she reserved for him. The one that healed him.   

"They didn't tell me you arrived," she said continuing the game with the girls. They didn't need to tell her. She knew. He knew she knew. He stepped out of the shadow of the door. When the girls saw Jon, they ran towards him. 

"Papa," Serena said wrapping her small arms around his legs. Robbyn was close behind her, running to grab his legs too. Sansa stood and followed the girls toward him. Jon lifted both of them into his arms. Kissing each one on the top of their head. Serena giggled when his beard scratched her skin and shook her dark auburn curls. Darker than Sansa's, so much like Robb's. Sansa always marveled that her brother's namesake was like Jon in color. Little Robbyn-Rianna laid her head with its almost black wisps of hair on Jon's shoulder. Her blue-violet eyes staring up at him. 

"Shh, little one," he said to Serena. "Remember what we said." Sansa's heart broke when he said those words. Jon had insisted. He insisted he be their father. No matter how great the risk.  

"Papa is a secret," Serena fake whispered into his ear. He gave her a smile. Sansa saw her own father with Robb and Jon when they were boys. Putting the girls down, Jon mussed both their hair. Sansa thought she would have to brush it again. 

"Only at Winterfell," Serena said nodding her head. 

"That's right," he said touching her nose. "Only at Winterfell." The girls ran back to their blocks finding the ones they wanted to show him. 

Jon turned his attention to Sansa. His grey eyes bore into to her. She was glad, she had chosen to wear her simple blue wrap gown. The one that was just low-cut enough to show her full chest and matched her blue eyes perfectly. Her auburn waves were tied in a loose braid that hung over a finely embroidered shoulder. 

Staring back at him, she admired his strong arms. He was still in his riding leathers and a cotton spring tunic. Sansa could see the muscles pressing against the thin fabric. His dark almost black wavy hair pulled away from his face and his beard left untrimmed due to the journey. 

"You said you'd be back by last night," she said lowering her eyes. She couldn't meet his angry grey ones.  Jon did not embrace her. Was it anger or precaution she wondered. They were alone it the room. So she settled on anger as cause of his coldness.  

"I was delayed," he told Sansa. Word of his delay had come late in the afternoon the day before. Sansa would not hide her disappointment. 

"By her?" she asked not meeting his face.

"Who else," he answered. Sansa was silent. The dragon queen had angered him, as she always did. Sansa must fix it, as she always did when things angered him. She reached for his arm, closing her eyes. Putting aside her own frustrations, she sought to calm him placing her hand on his forearm. 

"She's concerned," he said. 

"About what?" Sansa asked dropping his arm and turning to watch her daughters play. 

"She didn't like that we decided the meeting place. She didn't like that I came alone to Duskendale," he said. "She doesn't trust us."

"That's wise," Sansa said. "Wouldn't you say?" Jon grunted a reply. Sansa felt his hand firm on her arm. Forcing her to turn back towards him. 

"She must trust us, Sansa," he said. She jerked her arm away, taking a step from him. This was his problem.  Sansa was tired of fixing his problems. Perhaps, she would not put aside her own frustrations. Perhaps, she would let him be angry. 

"Yes, warden," she replied. Sansa did not need to see Jon to know his face was going dark. Satisfied with herself, she let a small smile skirt across her mouth. Daenerys let him keep his crown in name only, in Sansa's opinion.  

In a low voice, "She proposed you solidify the alliance," he said moving closer to her. She could feel Jon's breath on her neck. Standing so close behind her and refusing to touch her.  

With a laugh, "How?" she asked. "There's no one left to marry. Bran cannot bear children and Arya will run away before she's forced into a marriage she doesn't want." 

The girls continued to play with their blocks ignoring their parents low angry voices. Holding one up occasional Serena would call for Jon or Sansa to look at the tower she was building. Robbyn tottled up to Jon with a finger in her mouth and a purple block in the other hand that almost matched the color of her eyes. Jon patted her head taking the block, and gave her a nudge back toward her elder sister. 

"A ward," Jon said. Sansa stared for a moment, blinking once then twice. The room was silent save for the sounds of Serena telling Robbyn how to build the castle walls. Sansa knelt down towards her daughters.

"Girls, come," she said. "I believe it's time for a snack in the kitchens." Guiding them to the door and commanding Brienne to escort the girls to Gilly who was acting as their nursemaid on this trip. She was to take them to the kitchens and on a very long walk around the castle grounds. 

Sansa closed the door breathing a moment before she faced Jon. When she did, she refused to meet his eye. 

"Did you agree to it," Sansa asked.

"We have no choice," he said. "When one is of an age, six or seven."

Walking toward the table in the room, she grabbed a goblet at first to pour herself wine. Realizing only water was kept in these rooms, she instead gripped the cup. Jon was on her the moment she turned with the raised goblet in her hand. He caught her wrist. With her free hand, she raised it to slap him. Jon caught that hand too. He pulled her arms down to her sides and pushed her against the table. 

Pressing against her, "Sansa," he said into her ear. His jaw firm, his chest heaving up and down trying to stay calm.

"How dare you!" she yelled forcing him to take a step back not letting go of her arms. "How dare you. Speak on my behalf. About my daughters."

Jon shook his head once, "They're my daughters, too."

"Are they?" she taunted. "Last I heard I'm still married to Tyrion Lannister. And you...you.."  _You let it happen_.  _Allowed the marriage to stand._   

"Aye, and me," he growled, challenging her. His hands released her arms giving her the chance to push past him. She shoved him as hard as she could. Jon would not have it. Moving as if he was on the battlefield, he had her by the waist. Turning her around, he pressed into Sansa's back. Her hips against the edge of the table. 

"It's treason to hit a king," he said. His rough scarred hand moved up to her breasts, squeezing. She inhaled.   
"You're no king," she spat out. "No wolf, just a lap dog." He pushed her harder against the table. Sansa wanted him angry. 

"My title says otherwise, sweet sister," he replied attempting to keep his voice a measured calm. Too calm she could see. "We wouldn't have a kingdom, right now. Without our alliances. Sweet sister.  You wouldn't have all those pretty things, right now." Jon held Sansa against him so tightly, she could feel the hardness growing in his black leather riding breeches. One hand moved up to her neck. Holding under her chin, he sucked on her neck gentle at first until it bruised. 

"And our people would've starved," she said with a sigh when he stopped meeting his calmness. 

"Yes our people, our daughters," he said. "ours"  His hand left her chin to continue kneading her breasts pulling aside the top of her gown while his other hand had moved lower. He rubbed the space between her legs through the cotton cloth. Pinched her nipples. She closed her eyes. 

"Mine," she said in her sweetest softest voice. "My daughters." 

Jon was silent, his hands stopped moving. She could feel his anger pulsing through his body rising to meet hers. Every time, she denied his daughters, his blood, the rage grew until it exploded. He squeezed her breast even harder. Grabbed her cunt through the folds of her dress. She wanted it to hurt. To hurt him, so he would hurt her.  _Show, me the wolf._  They could both bleed. 

Without warning, Jon pushed her against the table until her chest was flat on the tabletop. She could feel him lifting up her skirts. His hand found the space between her legs, the wetness that was already there. Sansa held her breath. He didn't rub for long. He didn't care about her pleasure, not in that moment. They hated each other in that moment. 

Sansa could feel Jon move to press one hand into the small of her back, forcing her down until her chest was on the tabletop. While, with the other, she heard him unlacing his breeches. She thought how lovely his cock was. Even with his back to her, she imagined how it fit in his hand not to big, not to small. Firm and strong, when he pulled back the skin. 

"Please," she said mumbled. Finding her voice, she asked, "Or are you weak from your journey?"

 Jon waited, rubbing his cock in his hand. His other hand found her bare ass and he slapped it hard. Sansa laughed before he grabbed her hips and pushed his cock into her cunt. The force of it made her gasp for air. She stopped laughing.

The heaving, and groaning and growling, as he thrust into her again and again, terrified and delighted her. She used her arms to brace herself, to keep her head from slamming against the table. Goblets and the water pitcher fell to the floor. He freed one of his hands from her hips and tangled it in her long braid. Pulling at her hair, while he continued thrusting. Sansa would go dry before he finished. Another angry thrust before he pulled out to put his hands around her waist and flip her around. 

Sansa's back was on the table, her dress soaked from the spilled water. Jon lifted up her legs so she could wrap them around his waist. He pushed deeper into her. She pulled at the leather vest over his tunic. She clawed at him and when he leaned closer to her, she bit his exposed collarbone. He held her back down, to keep her from biting. His hand squeezing an exposed breast. She grew wet again. Her breath heavier the more he pushed her against the table, the more he kneaded her chest. Moaning with each thrust. 

Jon took his hand away from her body, pulled his cock from her cunt. Forcing her to sit up first then pushing her on to the floor on her knees. Sansa knew he would not last long enough for her to wrap her mouth around his cock. Taking himself in hand, he jerked once then twice rubbing the pink head against her lips. Letting out a roar he spilled his seed on her chest. Falling forward, he placed his hands on the table in exhaustion. Sansa breathed heavily sitting on the floor, holding on to his thighs. They stayed like that for a time. 

Finding her senses when Jon started to move, "That's all," she said smirking. He snorted and did not reply. His anger gone. The wolf gone. He would go about his day as he always did. 

Sansa thought they were reckless. Having done that here at Harrenhal. They did not know the servants. At Winterfell, none would share their secret. The secret that the wolves lived as husband and wife, not brother and sister. That the little girls were not sired by a Lannister but by the blood of Ned Stark. 

"There'll be more," Jon replied standing up straight and looking down at Sansa. He was calm, cold, "You tried to hit a king."

"I did," she agreed proud of herself. Standing and working to straighten her dress and hair. Trying to cover the stickiness left on her chest. 

"Go to your chambers," he said. Sansa raised her eyes. Calm or angry, he would command her, still. Her own rage dulled would return soon. The risks, the compromises, all in service of the dragon queen. 

"Go," he said again firmer this time. "I have my men to attend too. And my daughters to take on a walk." Sansa opened her mouth to protest. She had matters to attend to as well. Instead, she said nothing. Jon walked to the door.

Turning back at her with his hand on the door handle, "Don't leave your room. I'll want you eventually." Sansa narrowed her eyes at his coldness.  _Yes, he would want her when he was angry again. When his frustrations came back._

"Will you come as a wolf or a dog, your grace," she said. Jon walked out of the room letting the heavy wooden door slam behind him.  

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't decided if Jon and Sansa will ever find out his true parentage in this series. Also, I'm not sure if I want to make Jon Lyanna's son if he does find out who his mother is. Ideally, I'd love for him to be both Targ and Ned Stark's son...and I'm just not sure if that is in any way possible without completely jumping the ship. And trust me, I've thought about it. Ashara Dayne as a secret Targ anyone???? lol. 
> 
> Leave your comments and let me know what you think of this issue or the story in general!


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